Classic Poem

To lighten my darkness,
I look for the red crescent of her lips
And if that comes not
I look for the blue crescent
Of the sword of death.

Oh, joy of friends gathered upon the cool meadow
To drink wine handed by white hands!

Flowers of Spring on the meadow
Between spread slim fingers!
You sit drinking the tulip-colored wine
In the midst of this green earth
With all her waters.